Angel
by Hamato Kameko
Summary: AU, OC - Kameko tries to save another girl from tragedy. Inspired by Sarah Mclachlan's song 'Angel' and Yoko Kanno's song 'Blue.'
1. Cold, Dark Hotel Room

**Disclaimer: **The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and all related characters are © Mirage Studios, and are used without permission for entertainment purposes only. The song, 'Angel,' is © Sarah McLachlan. The story, 'Angel,' is © 2003-2007 Hamato Kameko. Kameko is © 2002-2007 Hamato Kameko.

**Rating:** PG-13 (L, V)

**About Kameko:** Don't know who Kameko is? Simply put she's the Turtles' sister in an alternate universe. If you don't like the idea, then, well, no one's forcing you to read. ;)

* * *

**Angel  
****Chapter 1  
**

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo  
_Spend all your time waiting  
for that second chance,  
for a break that would make it okay.  
There's always some reason  
to feel not good enough,  
and it's hard, at the end of the day.  
I need some distraction,  
Oh, beautiful release.  
Memories seep from my veins.  
Let me be empty,  
Oh, and weightless,  
And maybe I'll find some peace tonight.  
_oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Kameko scaled the fire escape of the hotel in record time. At least up here she could get away from those jerks of brothers she had. Honestly, guys could be such idiots sometimes.

She took a seat on the wall, her legs dangling over the street below. She could see for a heck of a distance up here, and somehow, it always made her feel better. Even though she knew she'd never really 'belong' with the people below, up here she almost felt like she was a part of their lives. At the very least, they were a part of hers.

And there was something extra going on this evening. Some local band had set up a small stage in front of the hotel, and quite a crowd had grown to watch the show. The girl singing was apparently a Sarah Mclachlan fan, because she'd already performed three of her songs. Not that Kameko was complaining. It wasn't her first choice of music, but it was pleasant nonetheless.

She was only four stories up, so she could see the goings-on of the people below pretty clearly. But, since those same people rarely, if ever, looked up, they never saw her. When they did look up, she vanished back into the shadows so quickly that it was assumed she was just a figment of the imagination.

_'Story of my life',_ she mused silently. _'Always just another shadow.' _

Kameko sighed. She'd more or less accepted her life a long time ago. One of New York's 'mysterious saviors', as some of the tabloids had come to call them. If you save enough people's lives, with them getting barely a glimpse of you – if that – rumors start to spread. They'd been called everything from phantoms to demons to angels. She preferred the last one. She figured the 'demon' rumor had risen out of people catching a sight of her brothers. Close-minded, ignorant people. Even if they knew the truth, they'd be afraid.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo  
_...So tired of the straight line,  
and everywhere you turn,  
there's vultures and thieves at your back...  
_oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

_'Here we go again, girl. Can't you think about anything else?'_ She had come up here to relax, and here she was thinking about depressing stuff. She looked down towards the entrance of the hotel.

A sudden breeze came up, and Kameko pulled up the collar of her trench coat. Technically, it was spring, but apparently, Mother Nature hadn't gotten the memo. It was barely forty degrees outside, and the breeze wasn't helping. But there was no way she was going back yet. If she went back too soon, the fight would just start all over again. _'Might as well watch the rest of the show'_, she figured.

She heard a noise behind her and jumped off the ledge, backing off into the shadows opposite the roof door. She watched silently as the door opened, and a girl stepped out, heading for the edge of the roof.

She looked to be Kameko's age, about fifteen, give or take a year. Her shoulder-length blonde hair was pulled back into a sloppy ponytail, and her eyes were red and swollen, as if she'd been crying. She wore a crisp new pair of blue jeans, a white fuzzy sweater, and perfectly unblemished white sneakers.

_'Rich girl. What in the heck does she have to be cryin' about? She should try livin' in a sewer. She probably doesn't even know how good she's got it.' _

The girl paused a few steps from the door, apparently considering something, and then walked towards the ledge, stopping right where Kameko had been sitting. Her shoulders started shaking and Kameko could hear her say something, though she couldn't make out any words. After a few moments, the girl's sobbing subsided, and then she looked down at the crowd below. She hesitated for a long moment, then climbed up on the ledge, and slowly, shakily stood up.

Kameko's heart leapt up into her throat. _'Oh, God, a jumper! I gotta do something! But what...?' _Her mind raced, trying to come up with a way to stop the girl without making the situation worse. She didn't want to startle the girl, because then she might fall accidentally. But she had to talk to her. Taking off her hat and straightening the collar of her trench coat, Kameko stepped out of the shadows.

She spoke softly, hoping not to scare the girl. "Hey."

The girl spun around, nearly losing her footing. She straightened up and faced Kameko, her eyes wide. "Who are you? Where did you come from?"

"My name's..." _Don't use your real name! Don't use your real name! _"Kameko." _Damn! _"You want to talk about it?"

"About what? What do you want?" The girl looked terrified.

Kameko put her leather-glove clad hands up to show she wasn't armed. Technically, she _was_ armed, as she always was outside of the lair, but the girl didn't need to know that.

"I don't want anything. Except maybe for you to come down and talk to me. What's your name?"

The girl answered without thinking. "Michelle. And I'm not coming down. Not in that direction, anyway."

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo  
_...The storm keeps on twisting.  
Keep on building the lies  
that you make up for all that you lack...  
_oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Kameko closed her eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. _'Stay calm, don't panic, take it easy...'_ She opened her eyes. "All right, Michelle, then I'll come up there." She leapt up onto the wall effortlessly, and grabbed Michelle's arm as the girl gasped and stepped back. "Hey, now, take it easy. I'm not gonna hurt you, all right? I want to help, if you'll let me."

The blond girl started to cry again. "What do you care? How could you help? You don't know anything about me! You don't know what I've been through! You're gonna try to stop me, aren't you? Well, it won't work! I don't want to live! Please, just leave me alone!"

Kameko nonchalantly crossed her arms over her chest, and stood casually on ledge, as if they were having a normal conversation on the street, rather than a good fifty feet above the ground. "I can't do that, Michelle."

The girl stared at her. "What do you mean, you can't do that?"

"I can't leave you alone. You need someone to be with you right now, and it looks like I'm elected." She paused for a moment, trying to read Michelle's expression. She tried to recall everything she'd ever heard or read about dealing with 'jumpers,' as they called those who leapt from tall buildings deliberately to commit suicide. She had a funny feeling she was about to sound like an after-school special, but if it worked, then who cared?

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo  
_...Don't make no difference,  
escape one last time...  
_oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Kameko decided to shift tactics a bit.

"So, uh, why... why the bungee jump without a bungee?"

For a moment, it almost looked like Michelle was going to smile. She didn't. "I'm tired of it."

"...It...?"

"_'It'_: my dad and his drinking, school, Dad's new girlfriend who hates me and wants to send me away to some boarding school, having to move away from all my friends so Dad can be closer to his girlfriend. I can't take it anymore. I threatened to run away and Dad slapped me, yelled at me, and said I was spoiled brat and then Diane came in and started screaming at me for causing trouble... And I just can't take it anymore. I won't take it any more."

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo  
_...It's easier to believe in this sweet madness,  
Oh, this glorious sadness  
that brings me to my knees...  
_oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Kameko frowned. This kid definitely had her share of problems. And her dad...

"Michelle... does your dad hit you?"

The girl scoffed. "Took you this long to figure that out?"

"Hey, now, no need for sarcasm. Anyway, that's my department. Look, it sounds like your father's got his share of problems, but he can get help, you know. This isn't the answer, Michelle."

"Please, don't start that bullshit with me."

Kameko fought a smirk. The way the girl said 'bullshit', so awkwardly, made it sound as if she'd never used an expletive a day in her life. She sighed.

"I know it's tempting to just end it all, but what about your dad, huh? He'll miss you, and you certainly won't do his drinking problem any favors by taking a flying leap. What about your friends? You keep in touch with them, don't you? How would they feel to know you had killed yourself?"

"I don't have any friends. Nobody ever bothers to call me or e-mail me. And Dad would be happy to see me go."

"I know that's not true."

Michelle had started crying again. "Yes, it is. My dad hates me. If he were out here right now, he'd probably push me."

"No. No, he wouldn't."

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo  
_...I need some distraction,  
Oh, beautiful release.  
Memories seep from my veins...  
_oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"How do you know?"

"I— ...Because all fathers care for their children. Even if they don't – or can't – show it. No matter what happens, Michelle, _all_ fathers care for their children. "

"Not mine."

"Yes, he does. He just has a problem. But he can beat it, with your help. C'mon. Let's get down from here, eh? The wind's pickin' up."

Kameko stepped down from the ledge and offered a hand up to the other girl. _'C'mon, c'mon, c'mon...' _Michelle started to reach for the proffered hand.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo  
_...Let me be empty,  
Oh, and weightless,  
and maybe I'll find some peace tonight...  
_oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

The next few moments happened in a blur, and only later would Kameko be able to sort out exactly what had happened.

The door of the stairwell flew open, bouncing violently against the brick wall it was set into. An angry, red-faced, heavyset man charged through, screaming at the top of his lungs. Even Kameko took a step back from the vicious creature approaching them.

"WHERE THE FUCK HAVE YOU BEEN? WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING UP THERE? YOU GONNA JUMP? GO AHEAD! DO US ALL A FAVOR AND PUT YOURSELF OUTTA OUR MISERY!" He caught sight of Kameko, who was staring at him, mouth agape, shock clearly etched in her features.

Michelle's father was drunk, and angry, and violent, and he had shown up at exactly the _wrong_ time.

"WHO THE FLYIN' FUCK ARE YOU? MIND YOUR OWN BUSINESS, YOU LITTLE SHIT!" He approached her, and made a clumsy swing at her...

...Then gaped in disbelief when she caught his fist in her hand, bringing it to a dead stop in mid-air, micrometers from her face.

On instinct, Kameko's other hand flew up, her small fist flattening his nose with a sickening crunch. In shock, the man dropped to the ground, cradling his hemorrhaging face and cursing her. He was furious, but he was also too afraid to get back up. It was clear that the question 'How could a little girl... _do_ that?' was racing through his head. Kameko briefly entertained the possibility of doing some more damage, but shunted that aside. The man was in bad enough shape already. She stepped away from him and tugged at the lapels of her trench coat sharply, straightening it.

"You disgusting fucker." She shook her head, incredulous. "You miserable, pathetic, disgusting fucker... ...Forget him, Michelle. He definitely needs help, but you definitely need to get away from him until he gets it. There are other places you can go, you know. What about your mom? You have other family somewhere?"

She didn't receive a reply. Kameko's heart skipped a beat, and then sped up, pounding painfully against her ribcage.

"...No..."

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo  
_...In the arms of the angel,  
__Fly away from here…  
_oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

A cold sweat broke out over her, though she knew she hadn't exerted herself that much when dealing with the mewling pile of sludge at her feet.

_'No. No, no, no.'_

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo  
_…from this dark, cold hotel room,  
__And the endlessness that you feel…  
_oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Her pulse pounding in her ears, Kameko turned to the ledge.

It was empty.

_'God, no...'_

She could hear screams of terror from the street below.

_'Please, this can't be happening...'_

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo  
_...You are pulled from the wreckage,  
__Of your silent reverie...  
_oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

She leaned over the ledge.

Michelle's slender body lay twisted on the stage below, surrounded by horrified musicians and passers-by. Even from this distance, Kameko could tell that the girl's blue eyes held no life in them.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo  
_...You're in the arms of the angel,  
__May you find some comfort here…  
_oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

At that moment, someone in the crowd happened to look up.

"LOOK! SHE WAS _MURDERED!_"

Kameko stumbled backwards as more angry voices joined the first, and scrambled to get out of sight.

_'They think it's me! They think I did it! I gotta get outta here, NOW!'_

She tripped over the sobbing lump behind her and fell hard on her back, hitting her head. She struggled back to her feet, shaking off the dizziness from the blow and feeling as if she were in a dream.

Or more precisely, a nightmare.

The only trouble was she couldn't seem to wake up.

Breaking into a run, she crossed the vast rooftop and, without pausing to think about what she was doing, leapt across to another building, which stood an easy eight feet away, but was several feet shorter. She landed, cat-like, and resumed her sprint, making for the fire escape on the other side of this building.

Already, she could hear sirens and at least one helicopter approaching. Cursing, she realized just how close she was to one of the precinct houses. Manhattan was just too damn small. Leaping over the wall at the side of the building, she grabbed the fire escape and began the tedious task of descending the stairs.

Fourth floor landing. She turned and started down the second set of stairs.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo  
_...In the arms of the angel...  
_oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

A spotlight swept across the rooftops, disappeared for a moment, then returned, illuminating the alley.

Third floor landing.

The sirens were close, very close, and the telltale blue and red lights of a squad car shot through the alley.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo  
_...Fly away from here...  
_oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Second floor landing. No time for the ladder. She leapt over the railing and onto the closed lid of a nearby dumpster, then jumped to the ground.

"This is the police. You're in a dead end, and the only way out is blocked. Come out with your hands behind your head."

_'Like fucking hell, I will.'_

Kameko's eyes darted across the alleyway. A door, a window, anything, _anything_ would work. She ducked out of sight behind the dumpster. Her boot made a familiar sound on the metal bars below her feet.

She couldn't believe it. She was standing on a sewer grate.

Officers were approaching; she could hear their boots and shouted orders only a few feet away.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo  
_...From this dark, cold hotel room...  
_oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Kameko had precious few seconds to escape. She seized the grill, ignoring the trash that covered it, and with one hard yank, it squeaked open. Pushing it open just far enough, she grabbed it from below and swung herself down under the street, pulling the grate down after her.

She heard curses from the police officers, who had reached her just in time to watch her disappear into the sewer. The grate was lugged open again, more slowly than she had managed.

"Michelson, give me a hand with this thing!"

It was opened all the way.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo  
_...And the endlessness that you feel...  
_oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Kameko kept running, expertly dodging trash and slick patches of concrete. Officers were dropping through the grate now, and flashlight beams were bouncing around the tunnel.

_'Jesus Christ, doesn't this thing have a bend in it somewhere?'_

The pipe was long and straight, and as it was, she was a sitting duck, easy shooting for the people chasing her. But then, they didn't have her excellent night vision, and they certainly didn't know the sewers as well as she did. She heard snarled oaths in at least three languages echoing down the tunnel, as several officers slipped or tripped and fell to the ground. Not daring to turn and look back, she estimated that there were five people struggling to keep up with her.

"STOP! Stop or I'll shoot!"

_'C'mon, there's gotta be a joint in this God-damned pipe somewhere!'_

She found her chance. The pipe was too small to stand in, but with her small frame, she could crawl through it quickly enough. She dropped to her knees, sliding on the concrete, and dove through the opening. She could see light less than ten feet away on the other side. She had to be quick, though, because if those officers caught up with her, they could easily fire one shot through the narrow pipe – there would be no way they'd miss her.

"Where the hell'd they go?"

"Down there!"

Three feet, two feet...

"Stop! Stop or I swear I'll shoot! Damn it, don't make me shoot you, kid!"

One foot...

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo  
_...You are pulled from the wreckage...  
_oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Kameko scrambled through the opening on the other side of the pipe and took off again. She had a feeling that some of the cops had been filtered out by their inability to negotiate the small pipe, but at least one of the officers was doing a surprisingly good job of keeping up with her.

Then again, he'd had two chances to shoot her and hadn't taken them, so maybe he wasn't all that impressive after all. She heard an explosion from the small pipe and jumped, grabbing at several smaller pipes that ran across the top of the larger tunnel and pulling herself up, just managing to get out of the path of the bullet before it reached her. She heard it hit a wall some distance down the pipe, and then bounce again, and again, until she could no longer hear it.

She couldn't help it. She yelled at them.

"Are you moron's outta yer minds?" She dropped back to the ground and charged for the juncture she could see about twenty feet away. "This is a sewer! Any bullets you fire're gonna ricochet! They might even come back to hit _you_!"

They hadn't been expecting her to say anything. The same cop that had shouted at her before yelled again.

"Then stop running! If you give yourself up now, they might go easier on you! The longer you run, the worse it'll be!"

"I didn't kill that girl! If anyone killed her, her father did!"

"That's not my call, kid! You gotta talk to the judge! GOD DAMN IT, STOP _RUNNING!_" Another shot was fired.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo  
_...Of your silent reverie...  
_oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Kameko skidded around the corner, hearing the bullet ricochet and bounce down the tunnel in the opposite direction. She never slowed down as she weaved her way through the sewer system, taking as many turns as she could in the effort to shake off her chaser. She couldn't believe how well he was keeping up with her, never more than fifty to a hundred feet behind her.

_'The police must be improving their training regimen... unless this guy has some kind of martial arts training... that might explain it... Man, get lost already!'_

At long last, she spotted a series of storm drains. So much light was filtering down through them that the sewers were clearly lit. Choosing one, she leapt up, grabbed the edge of the drain, and hauled herself through it and onto the street above. No one even noticed, or if they had, they ignored her. She'd lost her bearings in her frantic flight, and found now, to her disbelief, that she had come out in the middle of Time Square. Disappearing now would be easy. She giggled, almost overcome with hysteria (that wasn't at all from amusement), as she heard the officer's curses filtering up through the noise of the city.

"Later, dude."

Straightening her coat yet again, she slipped into the nightlife crowd and made her way down the street. After several minutes of walking, she turned down an alley and leaned, exhausted, against the wall. The events from only minutes before came back to her, now that the need to flee had passed. In an almost trance-like state, she made her way away from the crowds of citizens, away from the sounds of helicopters and sirens and horns and street vendors and bickering New Yorkers, toward home.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo  
_...You're in the arms of the angel...  
_oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Later, in the safety of the old subway station she called home, she wouldn't be able to remember how she got there. She wouldn't remember returning to the sewer, or threading her way to the hatch that led down into the lair; wouldn't remember ignoring her brother's taunts and heading straight for the shower.

When she at last emerged from the bathroom, wrapped in an over-sized towel, she didn't even notice that her father had the evening news on. She disappeared into her bedroom and pulled on clean shorts and an old t-shirt. Only then did she begin to be aware that she was home. She felt tired, but she didn't want to go to bed. Instead, she returned to the 'living room', such as it was, and sank onto the couch, looking up just in time to see one of her closest friends reporting on the apparent murder of a sixteen-year-old girl in lower Manhattan.

And Kameko began to cry.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo   
_...May you find some comfort here.  
_oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo


	2. Tough Love

**Disclaimer: **The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and all related characters are © Mirage Studios, and are used without permission for entertainment purposes only. The story, 'Angel,' is © 2003-2007 Hamato Kameko. Kameko is © 2002-2007 Hamato Kameko.

**Rating:** PG-13 (L, V)

**Summary:** Kameko tries to cope with the night's events, Splinter tries to put the pieces of the puzzle together, and the least-likely member of the family plays Guardian Angel – and dishes out some tough love in the process.

* * *

**Angel  
****Chapter 2**

Splinter turned, bewildered, at the sound of muffled sobs from his only daughter. It was a very rare thing for any of his children to cry, but especially Kameko, since she had always felt the need to show that she was just as 'tough' as her brothers. But now, with seemingly no provocation whatsoever, she was crying in front of him and in plain sight of her siblings.

Something was very wrong indeed.

The rat rose from his armchair and moved to sit on the couch at his daughter's side. He placed one hand on top of her head and spoke softly.

"Kameko, my child, what is wrong?" She shook her head and answered without looking up.

"I was so close... I was right there... If I'd just—..." The teenager shook her head again and abruptly pulled away from her father. She stood up, her expression suddenly hard, and angry. Splinter sighed internally – though delayed, Kameko's well-practiced shields had just gone up. It would be useless to try to talk to her right now.

"F'rget it," she muttered. "I don't wanna talk about it. I'm goin' t'bed." Without another word, and without giving Splinter or her bewildered brothers a chance to react, she ran into her room – which consisted of half of the subway car farthest from the lair entrance – and closed the door violently behind her. The click of the lock echoed in the brief silence that followed, then the muffled sound of loud rock music drifted back to them.

"...What da hell was _that_ all about?"

Distracted as he was by his deep concern for his daughter, Splinter didn't bother to reprimand his son for his language. He merely shook his head and rose to his feet. "I do not know, Raphael. But I fear the answer may have serious consequences."

Bidding his sons goodnight, he retired to his room. He would do much more meditating this night than sleeping, of that he was certain.

* * *

"Well, it's official." Donatello announced to his brothers. "Girls are just plain weird." 

"Will you knock it off, Don?" Leonardo gave his computer-brain brother a dirty look. "She was really upset about something."

"Eh, she'll be fine. Just tryin' to get attention or someth—_WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT FOR, LEO?"_

"Could you at least _pretend_ to be worried about our sister? _God_..."

"Maybe one of us should go try to talk to her?" Michelangelo queried hesitantly.

"You know what she's like, Mikey. She won't talk till she's darn good and ready." Leo sighed and stood up with a yawn. "Anyway, probably not much we can do about it tonight. I'm turning in. See you guys in the morning."

The remaining three barely looked up, and chorused, "'Night, Leo."

* * *

The comforting – albeit loud – music of one of Kameko's favorite bands blared in her ears, while she stared at the curved ceiling of the ancient subway car. Silent tears blurred her vision and ran down her face, leaving wet trails that ended in quickly growing damp spots on her pillow. 

It was her fault. That was all there was to it. She didn't push the girl, didn't throw her over the ledge, but she was still guilty, because she could have stopped it.

_'I could have stopped it... I could have saved her... But I wasn't fast enough...'_

It was one thing when a mortal enemy died at one's hands – in that situation, it was survival, kill or be killed. Or vengeance, a matter of honor. But Kameko had no beef with this girl, certainly no long-running hatred. But all the same, she'd let Michelle die. The sight of the girl's twisted body and empty blue eyes hovered in front of her vision. Kameko closed her eyes, trying to block out the image, but it only came into focus as she did so.

So, she opened her eyes and went back to staring, unseeingly, at the ceiling.

* * *

Leonardo stared resentfully at the wall that separated his and Donatello's room from Kameko's as he removed his bandana and pads. The improvised wall – constructed mostly out of scraps of wood and a few dozen posters, with various pieces of paper and fabric stuffed in the chinks – did little to insulate against sound. So whenever the occupants of one side felt like listening to music, the occupants of the other side had little choice but to listen as well. 

It also meant that Kameko banged on the wall – making it shake rather disconcertingly – every night in a vain effort to get Donatello to stop snoring. Leo couldn't blame her – they had all concluded long ago that Donatello's snoring strongly resembled the sound of a buzz saw being played through an outdoor rock concert's PA system. But he was a heavy sleeper, and as long as he fell asleep before Donny, he could stay asleep. The problem was that the music was _already_ on. Kameko was entitled to listen to her music, sure, but for the love of _GOD,_ he wanted to go to _sleep_.

The turtle's fist was less than an inch from the two-foot-square chunk of plywood wall at the foot of his bed before he stopped himself. His sister's distressed expression came back to him, and he sighed, pulling back his hand and using it to rub his left temple.

_'Better to just let her be, I guess. Unless I want to be force-fed my own... Yeah.'_

Sometimes that girl's temper rivaled Raphael's. And now that Leonardo thought of it, Raph would probably bang on Kameko's door to tell her to shut the hell up before he went to bed anyway.

So, Leo picked up his latest novel, and started reading. She had to turn off the stereo eventually.

...Right?

* * *

Raph scowled at the TV screen. Everybody else had already gone to bed, but Kameko's stereo was _still_ going. 

_'Figures. Splinter'd rip my head off if _I _had _my_ stereo playin' that loud at this hour. But not the _little princess, _oh_, _no... God damn it, shut _UP

He turned the TV up louder and slumped farther down in his seat as the midnight replay of the ten o'clock news came on. June was anchoring tonight, but cut almost immediately to a street scene where April could be seen, gorgeous as ever. She wasn't smiling. That was always a dead giveaway that the lead story was a bad one.

"Thank you, June. Police say sixteen-year-old Michelle Donavan fell four stories from the roof of this hotel onto the sidewalk below. She was pronounced dead at the scene. Witnesses say a figure could be seen on the roof after the girl's fall, and many are convinced that this individual is responsible for the death. The suspect fled on foot, and after a long pursuit, managed to escape. Several shots were fired, but it is not known if the suspect was wounded.

"Jason Donavan, the father of the deceased girl, was found on the roof with a severely broken nose. His blood-alcohol level was more than twice the legal limit, and it is not know what, if anything, his role may have been in tonight's tragedy. He was treated at the scene. After questioning by the police, Mr. Donavan was released. He has not been charged with any crime at this hour. Chief Sterns of the NYPD has announced that there is no evidence pointing to the man's culpability in this case, although he has not been ruled out as a suspect.

"The other suspect remains at large, and police are encouraging anyone with any information to call them immediately.

"The suspect is female, believed to be in her teens or possibly early twenties, approximately five to five and a half feet tall. She is believed to be of Hispanic or Asian decent, with short black hair. She was wearing a beige trench coat, a dark-colored hat and dark gloves. Little else is known about the suspect, and the police have not been able to determine a motive. We will, of course, keep you updated with the latest.

"This is April O'Neil, Channel Three, Eyewitness News. Back to you, June."

"Thank you April. In other news..."

Raphael stared at the TV for several long minutes, the rusty gears in his head grinding as he put the pieces together. He barely noticed as his sister's stereo at last shut off, and only vaguely registered as she slipped past him and headed for the ladder that led out of the lair.

She'd been gone for a full thirty seconds before it hit him. Barely slowing enough to grab his own trench and hat from a hook on the wall, he raced for the ladder.

"Shit! Kameko! Wait up!"

* * *

"Why the fuck are you followin' me, Raph? Get lost." 

"So what'd she do to you? Why'd you push her?"

Kameko stopped in her tracks, whirling around to face him. Raphael noticed that her eyes were red. "What are you talking about?"

"It was you, wasn't it? You were the one those people saw on the roof. You were the ones the cops were chasin'. You're a dead ringer for the suspect. And then there's you comin' home just a few minutes after it happened, an' bein' in such a shitty mood. I ain't stupid, Kame."

"I think the jury's still out on that one, Raph." She turned away from him and continued down the tunnel as if he weren't even there.

"Where're you goin'?"

"None of yer fuckin' business."

"Hey, 'Meko."

She stopped, but didn't turn to face him. "What?"

"Don't, uh, don't do anythin' stupid, all right?"

"This comin' from _you_. Whatever." She started walking again. Raphael watched her go until she was out of sight. Then he started to follow her again, though this time, he was careful to go silently. He had a feeling he'd regret this later, but he had an equally troubling feeling in his gut that if he didn't follow her, he'd never forgive himself.

* * *

Kameko entered the bar and glanced around. 

_'Classy place, this. Could be a hell of a lot worse, though. 'Least nobody'll bother me.'_

She made her way between tables, chairs, pool cues and flying darts, to the bar. She'd already decided what to get. She knew she wouldn't enjoy drinking it, but she figured the end result would justify it. Acting as if she owned the place, and couldn't imagine anyone ever asking for an I.D., she approached the bar and ordered a beer. The bartender never so much as batted an eye, and in less than a minute, her request appeared in front of her.

Dropping her payment onto the booze-soaked bar, she took her mug and chose an empty booth in the back of the room, where she could be more-or-less unnoticed by and separated from the other patrons. She stared at the golden liquid in her glass for a long minute, than took an experimental taste. She cringed at the bitter flavor. She'd always been under the impression, after tasting a beer on a dare as a kid, that the drink tasted, basically, like carbonated piss.

Things hadn't changed much.

Then again, she'd tasted worse. Donatello's cooking came to mind. With a mirthless smirk, she forced a few gulps down her throat. It made her eyes water.

She wondered idly just what Splinter would say if he knew she was here, knew she was doing this. Or Leo, for that matter. Or any of her brothers.

_'Splinter'd beat me within an inch of my life. Leo'd lecture me till I passed out from sheer boredom. Mike and Don would just act "disappointed", if they could get over their shock. Raph... Hell, Raph'd probably laugh. Not like _he_ hasn't done this once or twice. Probably say somethin' like "'Atta girl, 'Meko!"'_

_'The moron. C'mon, down the hatch – this is only your first, you wuss.'_

She finished the first as fast as she could force it down, then ordered another.

* * *

_'I can't believe _Kameko_ went into _Jake's_. I never thought I'd see the day. I mean, _Kameko_, who would sooner lick a storm drain than drink a beer? If she _is_ in there to get drunk... Yeah, real smart, lil' sis'. Get drunk for the first time in your life when you ain't got anyone with you that you can trust to drag your plastered ass home. Ah, fuck... Wonder if I can get in there without her spottin' me... Nah, bad idea. If she sees me, she'll just get pissed, and the last thing we need is for her to make a scene... Well, fuck, Raph, I guess you just get to spend all night sitting out here like a dumbshit waiting on your sister to stumble out of the bar... I ain't cut out for babysittin'... _

_'...Heh, can't wait to see what happens when Splinter finds out about _this_ one...'_

* * *

By the time the waitress brought her third beer, Kameko was feeling better. She could hardly remember why she'd come here in the first place; it seemed like it was only a bad dream. 

By her fourth beer, she was nauseous, she had to go to the bathroom, and she felt like jumping in front of a truck.

* * *

Raphael wiped the blood off his sai before returning it to his belt. Damned drunken idiot. He'd only wounded the guy, but hopefully he'd think twice before slapping any more women around. 

It irked him, though, that the woman was just as terrified as the man was. After all, it was _her_ life Raph had saved, but...

"Oh, hell. Not like it's the first time I didn't receive a thank you," he mumbled to himself. He ducked into the alleyway next to the bar, arranging himself in the shadows so that he could still watch whoever went in or came out. Kameko had to turn up eventually.

And there she was. _'Speak of the devil... Holy _shit_, girl, how many have you had?' _She was clearly drunk, and clearly trying to act like she wasn't. At least she was one of the 'quiet drunks', Raph noted. Not too unlike himself; which actually struck him as a little weird. She walked unsteadily down the sidewalk in his direction, apparently unaware of the jeers from the less-drunk drunks standing outside the bar.

No wait – she _had_ noticed them. She'd just flipped them the bird. Raph sniggered. _'Yep, that's my sister...'_ The jeers promptly turned into threats. One of the men – a good foot taller than Raph himself and ripped to the point of disgusting – started toward her, flexing his hands. She ignored him. Or maybe it was just that drunken 'ha-you-can't-hurt-me' haze. Whatever it was, this guy was going to hurt her, possibly try to take advantage of her, and in her state, she didn't stand a chance.

_'C'mon, Meko, just get to the alley and disappear... Ah, shit.' _He was going to have to intervene. Pulling out his sais, he stepped out of the alley and onto the sidewalk.

"Hey! Shitface!"

Kameko looked up so abruptly that she nearly fell over. Instantly, she was furious. The man behind her glared at him and pulled something – a gun, Raph realized – out of his jacket. The turtle wasn't concerned for himself – it was just a .38 – but Kameko... He flung a sai at the unsuspecting man, grinning in satisfaction as he howled in pain and the gun went flying down a storm drain on the other side of the street. He'd have to remember to retrieve that later. Meanwhile, his sai had ricocheted, and Kameko picked it up, swaying unsteadily. She waggled the weapon at him warningly. When she spoke, her words were awkward and slurred, as if she could barely remember how to form them.

"Raph, what th'f-fuck do'you think y-you're doin' here?"

"I'm tryin' to keep your plastered ass from getting raped or murdered, that's what I'm doin'."

"I c-can take care o'm-myself,_ Raph-a-el._"

"Not like this, you can't. Look at you! You can barely stand up!"

Ripped Guy and his entourage had been looking back and forth between the siblings as they argued. Thanks to Raph's trench and hat, no one had realized he wasn't human – a trick that he frequently marveled at. People in New York really _didn't _pay much attention to others.

Finally Ripped Guy snapped. "What in God's name is going on here?"

Raphael narrowed his eyes at the human. "I'm taking my sister home. Unless you want to _lose_ that hand, you'd better back the fuck off."

Ripped Guy opened his mouth, then shut it again without speaking. Finally, he responded. "Yeah, uh, whatever, man. It's more fun when they can fight back, anyway." He rejoined his buddies and they started walking away in the other direction.

Raphael fought off the wave of rage that washed over him at the man's words. _'Easy, Raph... Kameko's more important...'_

"Let's go, 'Meko."

"I'm not goin' anywhere w-wi'you." She walked past him like he wasn't even there. Raph snatched his sai back from her as she did.

"Like hell you aren't. I'm takin' you home if I gotta drag your ass kickin' and screamin' the whole way."

"F-fuck off."

"...Don't make me do this, Kameko."

"L-leav'me alone!"

Raphael clutched his sais so tightly he could feel every wrap of the tape around the handles. He closed his eyes and took a long, deep breath. He loved fighting with his siblings, even enjoyed hurting them to a degree, but only when they were fully in control of themselves. It was different when they were sick, or injured, or...

Or drunk.

There was no fun in hurting them when they couldn't fight back. And Kameko was already hurting a lot, or she'd never have come _here _in the first place.

"Meko..."

"I s-said FUCK OFF!"

Raphael shook his head, ignoring the sting in his eyes. Damn it, he didn't want to do this. But what choice did he have?

"I'm sorry, Meko."

She stopped, turned, and stared at him. It took several long seconds for her to come up with a retort – something that any third-grader would have been proud of: "I know y-ya are, now 'pologize." It was only more proof of just how far gone she was. The sober Kameko would have come up with a far better answer, and instantly.

Raphael didn't bother to reply; words weren't going to work. She was just too stubborn. Tucking his sais into his belt, he walked toward her. She finally seemed to understand that he wasn't going to leave her alone. That he was going to do what he had to to get her home in one piece. The condition that one piece would _be_ in was still unclear. Kameko backed up, then turned around and started to run.

"Get AWAY FROM ME!"

He tackled her to the pavement, hard, before she'd even passed the alley.

Raphael tuned out her screams, like he had for countless other victims in the past. Grabbing her by her hair, he hauled her to her feet and propelled her into the dark alley. She stumbled several feet and crashed, with a metallic clang, into a dumpster.

Raphael was unconcerned with the noise; in this part of town, people just turned their televisions and stereos up at the sound of violence. Nobody would even notice them.

Kameko looked up at her brother. Her chin was bleeding, skinned by the sidewalk, and she was struggling to project fury and defiance.

But Raphael could see it in her eyes. She was afraid. And he knew his expression held no mercy. The hangover was going to be the least of her pains in the morning, when he was done.

She scooted away from him, crab walking, and found her feet.

"Why w-won'ya jus' leave me' alone, Raph?"

"Why are you doin' this to yourself, Meko? This shit ain't like you."

"Wh-what th'hell d'you know about me? You don't understand! No one does! No one _can_!"

"How'd she die, Meko?"

"_SHUT UP!_" She screamed, launching herself at him. Raphael merely sidestepped her, sending her careening – again – toward the pavement.

_'Just stay down, Kameko... Please don't get up...'_ But she did, and she attacked him again. Grabbing one of her arms, he twisted it painfully behind her back, and pinned her against the brick wall of the bar. Kameko stomped as hard as she could – which was _considerably_ hard – on one of his feet. He grunted and shoved her away, and she leaned heavily against the dumpster.

"I _hate_ you."

"No you don't." He knew she didn't, that it was the booze talking, but that didn't stop her words from stinging. She'd said them with such venom, such total disgust that it was hard to ignore.

"Yes I do."

"You're drunk."

"N-no shit."

"You're not gonna give up, are you?"

"Whadda _you_ think?"

"I think you're gonna be in a world of hurt in the morning."

"You wouldn't hurt me."

"Wrong."

He punched her in the jaw, knocking her down again. He pulled her up by the collar of her shirt and buried his fist in her stomach, knocking the air out of her. She clawed weakly at his hand, trying to get free of his grip as she gasped painfully for breath. Raphael regarded her pathetic form, careful to keep his pity out of his expression.

"Promise me you won't do this again."

"Fu—" _Gasp_ "Fuck you."

He hit her again, letting her fall to the ground. She tried to get up but only managed to get to her knees.

"You're too good for this shit, Kameko. I won't let you do this to yourself again."

"Go to he—" She was cut off by another fist to her face. She forced herself up, but this time, only made it to all fours.

"Promise me you won't do this again, Kameko."

"I don't have to promise you anythi—!" He kicked her midsection, forcing her back down. She managed to push her head up, and glared at him. "Wh-who th'hell d'you think you are? It's m-my life! I'll do whatever th'hell I want!" Raphael shoved a foot between her shoulder blades, holding her down.

"I'm not gonna let you do this again. What the hell would've happened if I hadn't been here, eh?" She started to speak, but he cut her off by pushing a little harder with the foot he had on her back. "Those guys back there woulda raped you, and probably would have killed you. Even if they hadn't killed you, how'd you like to live knowin' you'd been treated like that? What if you'd gotten pregnant or gotten AIDS or something, eh? You're damned lucky I followed you. And since I _don't_ want to do this again, I'm tellin' you now: Swear to me you won't do this again or I'm gonna keep beatin' the shit out of you until there's nothing_ left_ of you to drag home."

"I'm not swearin' anythin' t'you!"

Raphael removed his foot from her back, and dropped down to her level, straddling her back and pinning her hands with his knees. He was less than gentle, and her screams proved it.

"Ge'off me! Lemme Go! I'll _KILL_ you, Raphael! You fuckin' hypocrite! _I HATE YOU!_" She kicked violently, but it didn't do any good. He grabbed her hair and pulled her head back as far as he could short of breaking her neck. There were tears in her eyes, and her chin was no longer the only thing bleeding.

"PROMISE ME YOU WON'T DRINK ANYMORE!"

"NO!"

Raphael growled, leaning over her so he could look her in the face.

"PROMISE ME!"

_"...No..."_

"GOD DAMN IT, KAMEKO!" He tightened his grip on her hair, trying to think of a way to get through to her without causing serious damage. But she saved him the trouble. The moment his grip tightened, she panicked.

"_No! _Stop! ...please, stop it!"

Raphael resisted the urge to let her go. Her pleas were worse than her screams. But he had to get her word. He _had_ to. He repeated himself, again.

"Promise me you won't do this again. _Ever_."

Her voice was raspy, but her words were clear – evidently the pain had broken through her drunken haze.

"I-I won't do this again."

"Swear."

"I d-don—!" He slapped her, hard.

"SWEAR!"

"All right! _All right! I SWEAR! JUST_ _PLEASE_ _STOP!_"

"You swear what, Kameko?"

"I-I swear..."

"What?"

"I swear, I'll never do this again."

"Ever."

"...Ever."

Satisfied, Raphael let go of his sister's head – gently this time – and got to his feet.

"Then let's go home, eh? It's nearly morning." Kameko didn't move. It was several seconds before she spoke.

"...Raph?"

"...Yeah, Meko?"

"...I-I don't think I can get up."

With a sigh, Raphael retrieved his sister's hat from where it had fallen, and then carefully picked her up.

"S'all right, lil' sis. You just take it easy. I'll get you home."


	3. The Morning After

**Disclaimer: **The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and all related characters are © Mirage Studios, and are used without permission for entertainment purposes only. The story, 'Angel,' is © 2003-2007 Hamato Kameko. Kameko is © 2002-2007 Hamato Kameko.

**Rating:** PG-13 (L, V)

**Summary:** The morning after. It's not over yet.

* * *

**Angel  
****Chapter 3  
**

Kameko groaned and tried to get her bearings. God, her head hurt...

...her face hurt...

...her neck hurt...

...her chest hurt...

...hell, _everything_ hurt.

_Am I dead?_

She opened her eyes. Nope, this was her bedroom. Blessedly dim – the lights in here were off, but the big lights in the rest of the lair were on.

Morning. Someone would be here to wake her up soon. Probably Leo. God, she did not want to listen to one of his lectures this morning.

She shoved her legs over the side of her bed and sat up. Her head felt like it was (A) full of cotton and (B) in a really, really tight vice. _'I want aspirin. Now. Screw 'recommended dosage two caplets'. I want four. Or six. Oh God, I think I'm dying...'_

It took her three tries to stand up. And then she saw her reflection in her mirror.

A black eye. No, two black eyes. A bloodied – but not broken, thank God – nose. Busted lip. Skinned chin. Several bruises. She looked down. _'Still wearing last night's clothes. What the hell happened last night? ...And is it possible for the human brain to actually explode?'_

Bruised arms... her clothes were filthy; she looked like she'd... well, like she'd been rolling around in an alley. Her whole body ached, and there were several more bruises that were hidden by her clothes.

And her head _hurt._

She wanted – and needed – a shower. On autopilot, she began digging through her dresser, and came up with clean clothes. She stumbled out of her room and headed toward the bathroom.

"_HOLY—_What happened to you?"

It was Michelangelo. Shouting. Her head protested mightily, and she was certain that any more would make her black out.

"...stop screaming."

"Uh... sorry? But seriously, what happened?"

"...you're still yelling. I'm going to take a shower."

She walked past him and locked the bathroom door behind her. Fortunately, there wasn't anyone already in there. Dropping her clean clothes on a shelf, she started stripping off the filthy outfit she had on, dropping it all unceremoniously into the roll-around canvas hamper – a laundromat castoff they'd rescued from a trash pile.

She stepped into the jury-rigged shower and stared blankly at the hot and cold handles. The shower had been, at one time, a toilet stall, but Donny's genius had fixed that. Well, Donny's genius and a hell of a lot of Clorox. Yuck. Sure, nobody had used the bathroom for decades, but still, _yuck_.

_'...Oh yeah. Might help to turn on the water.'_

She turned the handles, cringing as the cold water hit her. She hit the wall just beneath the showerhead with the palm of her hand; the water warmed up. Nobody, not even Donny, had been able to figure out why that worked ("But it's just not _logical_!"), but it never failed. You could stand in the cold water freezing your tail off for five minutes and it wouldn't even begin to warm up, but hit the wall, and it was almost instantly hot.

The sound of the water hurt her head, at first, but then it became simply a soothing white noise, blocking out almost everything else. Kameko closed her eyes and let the hot water wash away the dirt, dried blood, and all around grime that coated her. She was already feeling better, but it was a full ten minutes before she found the energy to actually pick up the soap.

She emerged from the bathroom forty-five minutes later (though to her it had only felt like about ten minutes) and wandered into the kitchen. Despite the pain she was still in (_'Seriously, can a person's head actually explode?') _she felt much better now that she was clean and wearing clean clothes. Opening the fridge door, she stuck her head in and hoped for something edible.

She came out with two pieces of garlic bread and left over spaghetti. She popped it into the microwave and dozed lightly as it heated up.

"Good morning, Kameko. Or perhaps I should say, good afternoon."

Kameko looked up with a start to find Splinter smiling at her from the table.

"...morning sensei..." she muttered automatically.

"I see you've finally decided to join the land of the living?"

"...huh?"

"It's 2 o'clock in the afternoon, Kameko."

"...oh. ...I missed practice!"

"It's all r-"

"No one woke me up!" The loud sound of her own voice was making her dizzy.

"It's all _right_, Kameko. We wanted to let you sleep. You clearly needed it, after the night you had."

The microwave beeped. Kameko carried her lunch to the table and sat down.

"...don't really remember... would you stop talking so _loud_?" Then she remembered who she was talking to and backpedaled. "I-I mean, _please_ could you stop talking so loud?"

The rat chuckled. "I take it you have quite a headache."

"...my brain feels like it's gonna explode."

"Yes, well... You're very fortunate Raphael was there to take care of you. You might not have come home at all."

"...huh? ...oh-Oh! Yeah, that... was not fun."

"I should expect it wasn't."

"I... I'm sorry... I really screwed up, didn't I?"

"I think you've been punished enough." The kettle on the stove began whistling, and Kameko cringed at the sound. Splinter stood and walked to the stove, where he proceeded to pour hot water into a mug. He brought the cup back to the table and handed it to her.

"Drink this."

She took the mug and stared at its contents. It looked innocent enough, pretty much like normal green tea, but they'd all learned from an early age that Splinter's 'tea collection', as they called it, held more than a few surprises. She took an experimental sip and gagged.

"Oh, man, what _is_ this stuff?"

"A good old-fashioned remedy..." He paused before leaning toward her, winking and adding conspiratorially, "For hangovers."

She felt herself blush; even if Raphael hadn't apparently explained last night's incident to Splinter, the old rat still would have taken one look at her and known. He was creepy like that, sometimes. What was weirder was that he didn't seem to be angry at her.

She eyed the tea with dread, but decided that just about anything was better than this headache. She forced herself to drain the cup as quickly as she could manage – it was still very hot – stopping just short of the foul-tasting dregs in the bottom, then quickly took a bite of garlic bread to get rid of the taste. Splinter chuckled.

"The tea will help, but I cannot promise an absolute cure. That can only come with time."

"Thanks."

"You're welcome. Now..." He took a sip of his own, regular tea, "Would you care to explain what you were doing at a _bar_ last night?"

She stared at him for a moment before replying dumbly, "Getting drunk."

He frowned. "Yes, I realize that. But _why_ did you _want_ to get drunk?"

"Um..." She shoveled another bite of spaghetti into her mouth – man, was she ever hungry – and thought. Abruptly, the image of the corpse of another girl appeared in the forefront of her mind.

"Oh... yeah..." She sighed heavily and focused on eating.

"Kameko? Daughter, I know you are hurting. But I can do nothing to help if you do not talk to me."

She watched one of her own tears drip into her food. She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head.

"Th... that girl on the news last night... that fell off the roof of that hotel? ...that... I'm the one the police are looking for."

Splinter took a long, deep breath. "I see. ...When you told me last night that you were 'right there'... Kameko, did that girl commit suicide?"

"I-I could have stopped her, I was talking to her... She was about to come down, but... but then her dad showed up and came after me, a-and..."

"And she jumped while you were distracted?"

She nodded. She wasn't terribly surprised at how easily Splinter was filling in the blanks; he had a sixth sense when it came to his children. Though this did little to make her feel better.

"I-It's my fault..."

"Kameko, you are not to blame for what happened to that young woman. She chose to end her life. You tried to help her, and that is admirable."

"But... She was just a kid, sensei... But her father... H-He was so..." Kameko shook her head, at a loss. Splinter reached over to wipe away the tears that trickled down his daughter's cheeks.

"Daughter, look at me." She looked up reluctantly, and he continued. "It is not your fault. You _must_ not blame yourself for what you cannot control. The guilt will consume you until there is nothing left of you but a shell. Kameko. It is not your fault. It is _not_. Do you understand?"

She nodded slowly. "Hai... I... I understand, sensei."

Splinter sat back in his chair, restraining a sigh. She claimed to understand, but he knew she still blamed herself. And until she _stopped_ blaming herself, she couldn't begin to heal. He only wished he could do more to help her down the path to self-forgiveness. He did not like watching his children suffer.


	4. Move Among the Stars

**Disclaimer: **The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and all related characters are © Mirage Studios, and are used without permission for entertainment purposes only. The song, 'Blue', is © Sunrise, BONES, Bansai Visual. 'Angel' is © 2003-2007 Hamato Kameko. Kameko is © 2002-2007 Hamato Kameko.

**Rating:** PG-13 (L, V)

**Summary:** The conclusion to 'Angel'.

* * *

**Angel  
****Chapter 4**

Kameko tossed and turned, unable to push away the visions of that terrible night, that event that had haunted her every day and night for weeks.

When awake, she found it hard to concentrate, on katas, on television, on anything. Every time she started to think about something else, she'd feel a small sense of relief, but as soon as she felt that relief, she'd remember _why_ she felt relieved, and the memories would flood back to her anyway.

Any time she closed her eyes, she saw Michelle's – lifeless, empty blue eyes, staring back at her.

When she slept – or at least, when she tried to, for she hadn't had a full night's sleep since it happened – she relived the events, only now, they were drawn out, focused on the worst parts, stretched to fill an eternity when it had only been seconds in reality...

_"No matter what happens, Michelle, all fathers care for their children."_

_"Not mine."_

_"Yes, he does. He just has a problem. But he can beat it, with your help. C'mon. Let's get down from here, eh? The wind's pickin' up."_

_Step down from the ledge. Reach up a hand... The girl starts to take it... The stairwell door flies open. Michelle's father comes through. He screams, curses. He's drunk, very. He attacks. _

_Catch his hand. Stop him, punch him. His nose is broken, a small injury compared to the pain he's put his daughter through. He can't hurt anyone at the moment. Speak to Michelle, reassure her. _

..._Michelle?_

..._No_...

_Heart skips a beat. Wave after wave of nausea hits, as realization, horrible realization set in. Turn to the ledge, find out for sure... It's empty. Michelle is gone. Screams float up from the street below. Like a train wreck, the need to see for oneself is too strong. Lean over the ledge._

_Michelle is dead._

..._Dead_...

No, sleep was a luxury that was out of reach for her now. Except for the few times that Kameko had collapsed from sheer exhaustion, and the one time Donatello had drugged her in an effort to help. But those weren't real _sleep_; her physical body could recover some, but her mind, her soul... They needed proper sleep.

Kameko sat up. She didn't even sigh; she was too drained to be annoyed by the fact that she couldn't sleep. She got dressed, gathered her weapons, and slipped out of her room. No one was up; it was just as well, no one to sneak past. She headed for the surface.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo  
_Never seen a bluer sky  
Yeah I can feel it reaching out  
And moving closer  
There's something about blue_...  
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

It was cold, and windy. Just like it had been the night... Kameko started walking, completely unconcerned with whatever thugs may be out at this hour, all too ready to prey on a teenage girl. Of course, in her trench coat and fedora, her gender was all but impossible to decipher, so it was unlikely that she'd be seen as much of a target anyway.

She just walked. And walked. And walked. Dead on her feet, so tired that she envied the schizos and winos that lay curled up or passed out on the sidewalk. With all their problems, they slept soundly, unaware that someone who could kill them with her bare hands and without even breaking a sweat was stepping over their unconscious bodies.

She was a phantom. To the street people, to the city, to the world. Outside of her family, there were precisely five people who even knew she existed: April, Casey, Keno, Professor Jordan Perry, who hadn't been seen in months, and Danny Pennington, whose father had moved them both to somewhere in the Midwest shortly after Shredder's appointment with the trash compactor. They hadn't heard from him since.

And that was it. Those were the only humans who knew she existed. Sure, there were a handful of people she was familiar with, shopkeepers and such, but none _really_ knew her. They knew ' 'Meko', the eternally hyper, sarcastic but friendly teenager with a penchant for pizza. The one with the strange-looking brothers.

They didn't know _her_. Kameko. Daughter and student of Splinter, Master of ninjutsu and himself student of Hamato Yoshi, once Japan's finest shadow warrior. Kameko, ninja. Along with her brothers and father, they'd saved this city again and again from forces most people barely even knew existed.

Kameko.

Assassin.

There was no denying that 'ninja' was, in at least one of its purposes, just a pretty word for 'hired gun'.

Or in her case, hired nunchuckus.

Yeah, let's see how much old Mr. Gerald at the Italian place up the street would react to find out the girl he affectionately referred to as 'tails' – referring to the trailing ends of the bandanna she routinely wore on her forehead when in public – had _killed_? Somehow, she didn't think he'd pat her on the back and tell her 'good job', even if the people she'd been forced to dispatch _had_ been on a mission to essentially destroy the city.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo  
_Asked myself what it's all for  
You know the funny thing about it?  
I couldn't answer  
No, I couldn't answer_...  
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

She really was just a ghost, truly a shadow. Unlike her brothers, and her father, she _looked _human, but she was still different. Still a mutant. Still a 'sewer freak', as Raphael had once so eloquently put it.

Still a phantom. Little more than a hallucination to the people who saw her, there one second, gone the next, having melted into the shadows she'd lived in her entire life.

They say you play the hand you're dealt in life, and you have no control over _what_ you're dealt.

Kameko felt as if she and her family's highest card was a three, and that was only because the deck only had _four_ twos.

She found herself climbing before she realized she was doing it. She scaled the fire escape slowly; she was in no hurry. She had nowhere to be, after all. Scaling the ladder from the top landing, she swung her legs over the roof's wall and stood up.

It was then that she realized where she was. She'd come here so many times, before. She wandered over to the exact spot, peered over the wall to the hotel entrance three stories below. She pulled back abruptly, her mind filling in the missing crowd, the portable stage, the screams...

Kameko lowered herself to the floor, pulled her knees to her chest, and rested her head on her arms. Knowing that fighting it would be futile, she let the memories come.

_"No matter what happens, Michelle, all fathers care for their children."_

_"Not mine."_

_"Yes, he does. He just has a problem. But he can beat it, with your help. C'mon. Let's get down from here, eh? The wind's pickin' up."_

_Step down and offer a hand... Michelle reaches down... Michelle's father appears, screaming, drunk. He attacks. Stop his fist, break his face. Turn attention back to Michelle..._

..._No_...

_Feeling sick, look over the wall._

..._Empty blue eyes stare back up_...

"Kameko?"

Kameko was instantly on her feet, weapons in hand. She scanned the rooftop. There was no one there. She was alone. But she'd been certain she'd heard...

"It's okay. I'm behind you."

She whirled around, preparing to strike this threat from nowhere. She nearly blacked out at the sight that greeted her.

"M... Michelle?" The girl sat casually on the ledge, smiling at her. Her eyes sparkled, full of life. There were no bruises, no sign at all that she'd even been hurt, let alone... _"B-But you can't—!" _Kameko shrieked, taking several steps back, feeling sick. She shook her head hard, and looked again.

The ledge was empty.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo  
_Things have turned a deeper shade of blue  
And images that might be real  
May be illusion  
Keep flashing off and on_...  
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"Kameko, it's okay." The voice was coming from thin air. Kameko rubbed her eyes hard with her fists, shook her head violently, and looked again.

Michelle grinned at her from her perch, and even gave a small wave. "It's okay. I won't hurt you." Kameko just stared, her mouth trying, but failing, to form words. Michelle patted the wall next to her.

"Come sit. Please?"

Kameko mentally recoiled, but her feet moved of their own accord, and she took a seat – albeit a good three feet from the other girl. "You're dead," she stated unnecessarily. Michelle shrugged.

"Oh, that. Yeah, well... It's not so bad. I mean, I was always taught that if you commit suicide, you get a one-way ticket to hell, but I guess that's not true."

Kameko furrowed her eyebrows. "So... you're in heaven?" Michelle laughed; it was a light, bubbly sound, so different from the sarcastic huffs Kameko had heard before.

"Well not at this _minute_, silly! I'm right here, now!"

Kameko raised a dubious eyebrow and cocked her head to the side. "So... you're a ghost? Or... what, an angel? Look, I gotta tell ya, I've never been big on all this spiritual stuff – you wanna talk to my brother Leo for that kinda thing."

Michelle laughed again. "I'm not a ghost, and I'm not an angel. I'm just... dead."

"So you're a zombie." Kameko frowned.

"No, I'm not a zombie, either! I'm a _spirit_, y'know? I'm not even really supposed to be here, but He made an exception."

"He... as in _God_?"

She nodded. "Yep!"

"This is insane. I've finally lost it. Great. Just great."

Michelle bounced her white sneaker-clad heels off of the wall rhythmically. "I just wanted to tell you to, y'know, stop worrying about me, okay?"

"Or maybe I'm dreaming. No, that can't be it; I'd have to _sleep_ to dream."

"Kameko, are you listening to me? I only have a little while to talk, you know."

Kameko sighed. "All right, I'll bite. You're Michelle."

"Yep!"

"The same Michelle who jumped offa this roof a couple of weeks ago."

"Yeah..." Her expression saddened slightly. "Not really one of my smartest moves, but..." She shrugged, and brightened again. "I want to thank you for trying to help me."

"But I _didn't_ help you."

"Yes you did. You tried so hard. I almost came down. If it hadn't been for Daddy... Daddy has a lot of problems, and I understand that now. I understand a lot now. In a sad sort of way, my dying has helped him. He hasn't touched alcohol since it happened."

"I was wrong. I said that all fathers cared for their children. I honestly believed that. Stupid..."

Michelle shook her head. "No, you're right! Daddy did—he _does_ love me! He organized this beautiful funeral, and back home, so all my friends could be there. He cried. He cried so much... You were right: he really just _couldn't_ show me that he loved me, because the alcohol got in the way."

"But..."

"And Kameko, I don't blame you. In the state I was in, it would have taken a miracle to stop me. And you almost pulled it off! You did everything you could; you did more than most people would have. You didn't have to; you could have just snuck off when I came out, instead of hanging around and trying to talk me out of it. I'm so thankful that you did stay. It's good to know there are people like you still around."

Kameko stared at Michelle for a long moment, narrowing her eyes thoughtfully.

"It... It really is you, isn't it?"

Michelle nodded, her charming smile making Kameko smile slightly. That smile was shortly followed by tears.

"I'm so sorry..."

Michelle scooted over and put an arm around Kameko's shoulders. "Please don't cry. Please, stop blaming yourself. I'm dead, but _you're_ still alive. Don't stop living just because I did." She looked up suddenly, then looked back at Kameko as she stood up.

"I have to go now."

Kameko stood as well.

"They got a curfew in _heaven_?"

Michelle smiled. "Something like that. Kameko... I want you to promise me something, okay?"

Kameko raised her eyebrows. "Anything."

"I want you to promise me you'll forgive yourself. Promise me that you'll move on and start living your life again."

"Michelle—"

"Please! It means so much to me..."

Kameko nodded. "Okay... You have my word." Michelle broke into her grin again, and suddenly threw her arms around Kameko, hugging her tightly.

"Thank you! I'll see you again some day, okay?"

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo  
_Free_..._ Wanna be free_..._ Gonna be free_...  
_And move among the stars  
You know they really aren't so far_...  
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"O...Okay..." Kameko nodded again, startled by the embrace but returning it anyway, surprising herself with how fiercely she hugged the other girl, especially since she usually abhorred the gesture. Michelle didn't just _look_ alive; she _felt _alive. She was completely tangible, her skin was even warm. Kameko wondered where the bright light was coming from...

"Thank you..."

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo  
_Feels so free_... _Gotta know free_...  
_Please_... _Don't wake me from the dream  
It's really everything it seemed_...  
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Kameko didn't remember exactly when Michelle had left her, didn't remember climbing down from the rooftop, hardly remembered the walk home. She found herself back in her own bedroom, her own bed, having changed back into her pajamas in hopes of getting a few hours sleep before morning. She fell asleep easily, and slept so soundly that her brothers let her sleep rather than waking her for practice. It was well into the following evening before she woke. The nightmares that had haunted her even in her waking hours were gone.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo  
_I'm so free_...  
_No black and white in the blue_...  
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Witnesses would later say they'd seen a small figure in a trench coat and fedora standing near the entrance of a hotel a few blocks from Times Square. The person had stood for several minutes, silent and unmoving, as if standing over a grave, before bending to place something on the ground. They'd then walked away, vanishing into the crowd.

As if an invisible barrier had been erected, pedestrians stepped carefully around the item, not one of them daring to desecrate the memorial.

A single white rose lay on the sidewalk, with a neatly written note carefully pinned to it:

_In memory of Michelle Donavan.  
I only knew you a short time, but you changed my outlook on life forever.  
Rest in peace, my friend._

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo  
_Everything is clearer now  
Life is just a dream, you know  
That's never ending_...  
_I'm ascending_...  
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

**_...FIN..._**


End file.
